Smallville invites a new friend into his home
by firegemstone
Summary: The Saga continues when Clark Kent meets someone with more mysteries than his own.
1. Chapter 1, Unexpected Meeting

His chest laid wet in perspiration from the struggle he was enduring. I placed a gentle hand on it, helplessly looking for the source of his trouble. Then I found it. A small fragment of green meteor rock. I knew these things were dangerous, they had changed so many of my world, I too fear its effects. But it did not matter. I doubted it would hurt any of us the way it hurt him. So I slipped the last fragment into my led pouch. Led was the only thing that would protect me from its long-term radiation effect and him from its shorter term effect. 

I turned back to look at his face and saw the pain was quickly dissipating. I was glad. And relieved.

"Are you all right?" I asked.

He nodded, breathless and urged me to help him up. One minute he laid in dying pain and the next we was about to return to his dying quest. Men. All the same. He turned around the moment he was up, looking no doubt for the one who put him there, on the ground, near his death. His face suddenly changed as he realized his nemesis was gone and we were alone in the alley.

"Come on," I said, "I'll take you home."

I figured he could hardly refuse. But there was a hesitation in his eyes and he reluctantly accepted. I wondered what else was he hiding. All I knew was the meteors affected him and that he had incredible strength. I had seen him stop his foe's motorcycle amid its run effortlessly. Then his foe dropped a sac of fragments at his feet, rendering him helplessly cramped on the ground.

That was when I saw him pull a gun on him. I could not let him die. I had to help.

"Hey!" I began to shout, drawing his attention.

Immediately the gun turned on me. Realizing the danger I was in, I ducked behind a staircase. When I turned around again, the man jumped back on his motorcycle and fled. I ran for the fallen man. I had one look at his face and saw the motorcycle turning around and accelerating towards me. I swallowed my fear stepped away from the man on the ground. I had not saved his life so he could be run over right after.

I made a very long and high pitch thumping cry, hoping to help distract him. I prepared to faint my way out, playing toreador, and waited he charged dangerously close at me. He continued his acceleration. At the last moment, I dodged and he passed me. But I received his handle on my arm, throwing me painfully on the ground.

I turned around as I heard him decelerate. He looked at me while I laid on the ground. I thought he would come back, but he left. I got up and began running after him, then I turned back and saw the man I just saved. I decided to go help him instead. He had seemed in pretty bad shape.

Now he followed me to my car so I could ride him home.

"Say, what's your name?" I said, turning on the engine.

"Clark," he answered.

"I'm Lyta," I said.

"Thanks for saving my life," said Clark, still hesitance lingering in his face.

If it was embarrassment or if he was hiding something, I could not decide.

"Where do you live, Clark?" I asked, driving away.

"My parents' farm," he answered. "It's not far from here. Take the state road, it's quicker."

I took a left and glanced at his troubled face.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "That man, who was it?"

"I don't know," he answered.

"Are you afraid he's going to come after you?" I asked, taking a guess.

"It's not what troubles me," he admitted.

"Then what is it?" I asked.

He looked at me, weighing how much he could trust me.

"Look," I said, "I saved your life. You can tell me."

"You know, you're right," said Clark, changing tone. "But it's a long story and I don't want to get you in trouble. There's already enough people in it as it is."

"You don't want to get me involved?" I asked, baffled. "I already am. The guy tried to kill me too you know."

Clark looked embarrassed, then changed the subject by giving me new directions for the road. We arrived not long after, but an awkward silence lingered between the both. A light coloured hair woman came out of the house where I parked. Immediately Clark got out of the car. He seemed in a hurry to get some fresh air. I followed him out and was eager to meet the woman.

"Is that your mom?" I asked.

"Yeh," he answered, turning to me, and I faced her odd questioning stare.

"I guess good looks run in the family," I said, trying to give her a compliment, but Clark gave me another awkward look.

I wondered what could I have said that was misplaced. I turned back to his mother with a questioning stare.

"Well, he's," she started, almost embarrassed.

"Adopted," they both managed to spit out.

I was surprised and understood how my compliment did not have the same impact under this light.

"Well, you must have been really good to him," I said, hoping to catch myself, "because you know environment has as much influence in the physic than DNA. Oh, I'm sorry, it's Lyta. Where are my manners?"

I held out a hand which she shook with a smile, breaking the awkwardness of the moment.

"Nice meeting you," she smiled, "I'm Martha. New friend of Clark's?"

"You could say that," I said. "You know, your son has a nick to get in trouble. Maybe I outcha become his sidekick."

"She saved me," Clark explained.

"Oh!" she said with a worried smile. "Maybe you would like some dinner. It's late, you must be both hungry."

"It's all right," I said, backing off to the car, "I don't want to impose."

"But you're not imposing," protested Martha, motherly.

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"Not at all," she insisted, "come on in."

And she took me by the arm to drag me inside.


	2. Chapter 2, Invited into the Kent home

It was such a lovely warm house. The wood felt warm compared to the stoned walls of the city. The place reminded me of home. The home I had in my youth. But things had changed... and I felt a sudden desire to leave. 

"Where're you going?" asked Clark, intercepting me at the door.

It was the back door in the kitchen and it was dark outside. I was startled by his question as I realized what I was doing. I was heading out and I did not even realize it. It would be impolite to leave my hosts like that and it was impossible to explain, so I chock a laugh to cover the real reason.

"Nowhere," I said. "I daydream too much sometimes. I'm sorry. Can I be of any help?"

I noticed Clark had changed into new clean clothes. But the reoccurring red and blue motif surprised me somewhat.

"No," insisted Martha. "You're our guest so just sit back and relax. It's the least I can do for saving my son's life."

Clark walked back to the cupboard and took out some plates.

"It was nothing," I quickly said.

Clark began dressing the table.

"Nothing!" said Martha. "I think that was really brave. Not everyone would do the same."

"Well, I'm not everyone," I said.

"So tell us about yourself," said Martha stirring a pot of hot soup before turning to the oven.

"Well, there's not much to tell," I said. "I've been living in the city for the past ten years, but now I needed a change so I thought about the country and came here. I just want to start over, clean."

Then I realized the implication of my words. I had said little but it was already too much! Martha looked at me inquisitively.

"Why, what happened?" she asked.

Then I thought I needed only to tell half the truth. Half the truth is better than a lie. Not that I wanted to lie to her, I just did not have much of a choice. My secret was a burden only I should have to carry, and sharing it would endanger everyone around me.

"I lost my family," I admitted. "There's nothing anymore for me there."

I yawned, feeling suddenly the fatigue of the past few days weighting on my shoulders. It hit me like a brick all of a sudden.

"I'm sorry," she said compassionately. "It must have been awful."

I nodded, my eyelids feeling heavy, then the next thing I remember, I was on the floor with Clark keeping me from falling completely.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his mother rushing to my side.

"You don't look well," she said, "maybe we should call a doctor."

"No, I said, shaking my head. "I'm just tired. I haven't slept in three days."

"Three days?" repeated Martha, baffled.

Clack helped me to the nearest couch where I dozed off. When I woke up, it was already morning and the smell of fresh pancakes filled the room.

"Was I home?" I wondered for a brief moment.

Then I remembered painfully where I was, and rubbed my head. Martha peeked in the living room with a smile as bright as the morning sun. I blinked, surprised by the luminescence she painted.

"How are you this morning?" she asked, brightly.

I got up and stretched, washing off the night's fatigue.

"Much better," I answered, returning the best I could her smile, "thank you."

I suddenly felt very dirty and remembered that if I had not slept in three days, I had not taken a bath. Then there was the sound of water running down its pipes and I knew Clark was taking his shower. I wondered if I had the right to ask, but I did not have much of a choice. I stinked.

"Mrs. Kent," I started.

"Call me Martha," she smiled.

"Martha," I said, "would it be any trouble if I used your shower, after Clark's done. I would just need a towel..."

"Sure, no problem," she said with a wider smile, "I'll get you one."

"Thanks," I smiled politely.

I went out of the house to get some clean clothes from my car. The sun was shinning brightly, I had trouble looking around without squinting. God, did I love the fresh air. It was so different than the city's. It was clean. There was a nice breeze, striking my hair. I wanted to remain there and just enjoy the moment, but I was interrupted by the smell of my own stench, and I opened up the trunk.

After digging everything I needed to freshen up and change, I went back in the house where I found Clark in the kitchen, rubbing a towel over his wet hair. The moment Martha saw me, she handed me a towel. It still smelled fresh soap, as if it was just coming out of the laundry.

"Here," she said.

"Thanks," I said, taking it and hurrying to the bathroom.

There, I took a long and relaxing shower. When I came out, I felt like a new woman. It was fitting with the welcoming picture I met when I walked down the stairs. Both Martha and Clark were sitting at the dinner table, waiting for me.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," I said, embarrassed when I realized they had not touched a thing, "you should have started without me."

"No!" she said. "It wouldn't have been right. Come on."

She took my plate and filled it with pancakes before I could even sit. They were delicious! But our breakfast was interrupted by the arrival of a dark and tall man, whose curled hair fell on his shoulder. Martha seemed delighted to see him, but something about him made me distrust him.

"I see you have company," he remarked as Martha lead him in.

I gave him a polite smile. Then he extended his hand sympathetically.

"Lionnel Luthor," he said as I grabbed his hand in a shake.

"Lyta," I replied, shocked to hear the name.

I knew the Luthors by reputation and this could not be good news for me. I had to be extra careful now around the Kents. Who knows what he would do should he learn how I was. But to be sure how much a threat he was, I decided I had to inquiry Clark. With his secrets well kept, he knew best who was trust worthy in this town.

"Are you ready?" he asked Martha. "We're going to be late."

"Sorry," she said, "let me grab my jacket."

Martha quickly gathered her belongings and jacket, waved us goodbye and left with the man. I was somewhat shocked as I was certain she knew of Clark and the risks involving working with such a man. Could I have been mistaken on him?


	3. Chapter 3, Discovering Smallville

-- Author note: Sorry for the delay, I'm studying full time... I'm new at this and it took me a really long time to understand what I had missed so I can actually post my stories. I got kind of got discouraged at a certain point, then went back to it and figured it out. Still, I did not feel like writing, it had killed my inspiration. But super thanks for the comments, it got me writing again! I do think this site is great. I mean, how many times have we imagined stories with our favorite heroes? And what do you know, there is a site where we can share them all! Only, we have to work on the writing part. Anyway, just to be clear, I haven't invented any part of the Smallville world, nor its characters DC comics have.. The only character that is my own creation is Lyta. Thanks and enjoy! --

After breakfast was over, Clark had his farm choirs to take of. I was more than happy to offer my help. What I found odd was his hesitant smile. I was so certain he would appreciate the extra help, but he had a faint reluctance when he agreed. I had the feeling he thought I would slow him down.

I must say I enjoyed the day's hard labour, seeing Clark Kent with a shirt wet with sweat managed to wash away much of the nostalgia still lingering in my heart. But the best part was when we were picking up straw and ended up straw fighting with each other. It was amazingly exhilarating. I had not been happy like that in a long time.

We then sat there, covered in straw, and just stared at the sky. We were just outside the barn and the pickup truck was next to us. There was nothing but the quiet air. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath. Time suddenly seemed suspended and I saw a fleck of straw linger slowly down the air and landing between Clark and I.

This wonderful moment was sadly interrupted by the sound of a rolling engine. We both sat up to see who was coming. A small yellow car pulled around and stopped near the pickup. A bright blond girl came out with a beaming smile.

"Hi Clark!" she beamed.

"Hey!" Clark went, jumping to his feet.

I got up, watching the silent conversation of stares they exchanged.

"Oh," I said, suddenly realizing the intimacy of their relation, and feeling suddenly crowded. "Is that your girl..."

"We're just friends," they both interrupted.

"Awfully close friends," I said, "it's ok, I'll be right there."

I took a deep breath and stepped out of the way. As I looked back, I noticed some paper she took out and unfolded from her pocket. They both bent over it and spoke low as it not wishing me to hear their conversation. I let out a sigh, feeling really out of place. I obviously did not belong there.

"Hey," she came behind me.

I was surprised for a moment to see her there, then when I looked for Clark he was gone. I took a step forward.

"Clark left?" I asked, thinking that it was awfully quick...

"Yeh," he had some stuff to do.

"Does that have anything to do with back alleys?" I asked.

"What?" she asked, frowning her brows.

"Never mind," I said, changing tone. "It's just how we've met. So, you're Clark's friend?"

"Yeh, Cloe," she answered.

"I'm Lyta," I introduced myself.

Cloe was kind enough to show me around town. She then invited me to have a coffee at the Talon. It seems everyone in town somehow found themselves there at a certain point in time. The beautiful Lana was also there, serving coffee. Cloe and I were in the middle of an urban myths conversation when Lex Luthor stepped in with a dozen roses in his hands. I would have rather continued listening to Cloe's stories about her career, but my eyes were magnetically draw to him.

"Why did I come to Smallville?" I suddenlt wondered. With both Luthors around, it was not a good place to be. And I coward in the corner, hoping he would not see me. But to my luck, Lana was heading for our table to refill Cloe's coffee. Cloe noticed my distress and sent me back an inquisitive look.

"He's the kind of guy who would find out if you peed in the alley and hold it against you ten years later if it suits him," I quickly answered as I tried to hide by staring at me hot chocolate. I somehow hoped it would make me invisible. I was wrong.

Lex brought the flowers over to Lana. "This is for you, for our anniversary."

"You shouldn't have," said Lana, taking them and blushing with her soft smile.

They kissed.

"I know what you mean," added Cloe before interrupted their long passionate kiss with the sound of her clearing her throat.

They both turned around, embarrassed by the length of their kiss as they realized they were not alone in the room. Lana looked so happy and so was he, but in a more stern way. It was strange, he looked harmless then, but I could feel a darkness hidden in his heart. Either he fought his darkness or he hid it well.

He approached in a friendly manner. "Hi Cloe. Who's your friend?"

"I'' be right there," said Lana, as she took off her apron and left to prepare to leave with her date.

"Hi Lex, this is Lyta," said Cloe, introducing us.

"Nice meeting you," he said with a polite smile as he extended his hand.

I shook it politely as I made a friendly nod, acknowledging his gesture.

"I've never seen you before," commented Lex, "are you from out of town."

"You could say that," I answered.

"So, where're you from?" he inquired.

"Around," I answered, reluctant to give him any information. But seeing his suspicious face, I decided to give him something instead. "I'm kidding. I'm from Canada, Vancouver."

"That's a beautiful city up there, what made you come all the way here?" he asked.

"Change of scenery," I answered. "Have you ever gone somewhere hoping you would find another destiny?"

"Yeh, that's kind of why I left Grandville for here," answered Lex as Lana came back.

"I'm ready," she said with her bubbly smile.

They kissed and waved us goodbye as they left.

"I'm sorry, I should go," I said, suddenly getting up to leave.

"Why, what's wrong?" inquired Cloe.

"Thank you for everything," I answered, heading for the door.

But there, I bumped into Clark who suddenly appeared at the door. I was shocked to see him and took a step back, shaken. Lex had me worried so much, I was beginning to be stressed out. I did not want to meet him because I knew he would look into my background. He always does the moment he suspects anything, and even if he didn't, just in case. If he started looking, and connected the dots, I would be in trouble. I wasn't ready to face them, not when I wanted so much to find peace after all I had been through.

Clark did not have time to notice my troubled face, he immediately went for Cloe the moment he spotted her.

"I;ve been looking for you," said Clark.

"Why, what's wrong?" asked Cloe.

"Look," said Clark, showing her a paper.

"Who's that?" asked Cloe as I came back, curious.

"The man in the alley, he works for him," answered Clark. "Dr. Allen Grey. His..."

"A micro biologist who works on enhancing viruses with the help of meteor rocks, I said, palling.

"How do you know that?" asked Cloe, stunned.

I had to leave. I turned around and headed out. Both followed me.

"Wait!" protested Clark, catching on.

But I continued without looking back. Clark intercepted me and caught my arm.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

I barely glanced at his puppy eyes.

"We both have our secrets Clark," I answered.

I tried to move away but he blocked me every time until he forced me to look at him. I could not look him long in the eye; I did not want to go through this again. Then I remembered there was a time where I was ready to face anything. I was fearless. But where did that woman go? Probably left behind with all of her past friends.

I stopped giggling, abandoning myself to my frustration. Tears were coming into my eyes. Tears I did not want either of them to see.

"Everything was perfect this morning!" I yelled, pulling away. "Why did you have to ruin everything?"

I was crying and I ran off, leaving them both baffled in the middle of the street.


End file.
